Cabin No. 10 opened, and an aged woman of extreme height stepped slowly out on the balcony. She was bald as an egg and her head was flat on top. She had a great bony nose, black bulging eyes. She wore a black cape and on each finger of both hands was a tremendous jewel.
One more to go. The door to cabin No. 6 remained closed.
The meal was served from a menu surprisingly varied, to serve the palates of many races. Joe, in his planet-to-planet journey across the galaxy, perforce had dismissed all queasiness. He had eaten organic matter of every conceivable color, consistency, odor and flavor.
Familiar items he could put a name to–ferns, fruits, fungus, roots, reptiles, insects, fish, mollusks, slugs, eggs, spore-sacs, animals and birds–and at least as many objects he could neither define nor recognize and whose sole claim to his appetite lay in the example of others.
His place at the table was directly opposite Manaolo and Elfane. He noticed that they did not speak and several times he felt her eyes on him, puzzled, appraising, half-furtive. She's sure she's seen me, thought Joe, but she cant remember where.
After the meal the passengers separated. Manaolo retired to the gymnasium behind the saloon. The five Mangs sat down to a game played with small rods of different colors. The Cils went up to the promenade along the back rib of the ship. The tall demon-woman sat in a chair, gazing blankly into nothingness.
Joe would likewise have taken exercise in the gymnasium but the presence of Manaolo deterred him. He selected a film from the ship's library, prepared to return to his room.
Priestess Elfane said in a low voice, «Lord Smith, I wish to speak to you.» «Certainly.»
«Will you come to my room?»
Joe looked over his shoulder. «Won't your husband be annoyed?»
«Husband?» She managed to inject an enormous weight of contempt and angry disgust into her voice. «The relationship is purely nominal.» She stopped, looked away, apparently regretting her words. Then she continued in a cool voice, «I wish to speak to you.» She turned away, marched for her cabin.
Joe chuckled quietly. The vixen knew no other world than that in her own brain, had no conception that wills could exist in opposition to hers. Amusing now –but what a devil when she grew older! It occurred to Joe that it would be a pleasant experience to be lost with her on an uninhabited planet–taming her willfulness, opening up her consciousness.
He leisurely followed to her cabin. She sat on the bunk. He took a seat on the bench. «Well?»
«You say your home is the planet Earth-the mythical Earth. Is that true?»
«Yes, it's true.» «Where is Earth?»
«In toward the Center, perhaps a thousand light-years.»
«What is Earth like?» She leaned forward, elbow on her knee, chin on her hand, watching him with interested eyes.
Joe, suddenly flustered, shrugged. «You ask a question I can't answer in a word. Earth is a world of great age. Everywhere are ancient buildings, ancient cities, traditions. In Egypt stand the Great Pyramids, built by the first civilized men. In England a circle of chipped stones, Stonehenge, are replicas of a race almost as old. In the caves of France and Spain, far underground, are drawings of animals, scratched by men hardly removed from the beasts they hunted.»
She drew a deep breath. «But your cities, your civilization–are they different from ours?»
Joe put on a judicious expression. «Naturally they are different. No two planets are alike. Ours is an old stable culture–mellowed, kindly. Our races have merged– I am the result of their mingling. In these outer regions men have been blocked off and separated and have specialized once again. You Druids, who are very close to us physically, correspond to the ancient Caucasian race of the Mediterranean branch.»
«But do you have no Great God–no Tree of Life?»
«At present,» said Joe, «there is no organized religion on Earth. We are free to express our joy at being alive in any way which pleases us. Some revere a cosmic creator–others merely acknowledge the physical laws controlling the universe to almost the same result. The worship of fetishes, anthropoid, animal or vegetable–like your Tree–has long been extinct.»
She sat up sharply. «You–you deride our sacred institution.»
«Sorry.»
She rose to her feet, then sat down, swallowing her wrath. «You interest me in many ways,» she said sullenly, as if justifying her forbearance to herself. «I have the peculiar feeling that you are known to me.»
Joe, on a half-sadistic impulse, said, «I was your father's chauffeur. Yesterday you and your–husband were planning to kill me.»
She froze into unblinking rigidity, staring, mouth half-open. Then she relaxed, shuddered, shrank back. «You–are you–»
But Joe had caught sight of something behind her on a night-shelf over her bunk–a potted plant, almost identical with the one he had left on Kyril.
She saw the direction of his gaze. Her mouth came shut. She gasped, «You know then!» It was almost a whisper. «Kill me, destroy me, I am tired of life!»
She rose to her feet, arms out defenselessly. Joe arose, moved a step toward her. It was like a dream, a time past the edge of reason, without logic, cause, effect. Her eyes widened, not in fear now. He put his hands on her shoulders. She was warm and slender, pulsing like a bird.
She pulled away, sat back on her bed. «I don't understand,» she said in a husky voice. «I understand nothing.»
«Tell me,» said Joe in a voice almost as husky. «What is this Manaolo to you? Is he your lover?»
She said nothing; then at last gave her head a little shake. «No, he is nothing. He has been sent to Ballenkarch on a mission. I decided I wanted release from the rituals. I wanted adventure, and cared nothing for consequence. But Manaolo frightens me. He came to me yesterday–but I was afraid.»
Joe felt a wonderful yeastiness around his heart. The image of Margaret appeared, mouth puckered accusingly. Joe sighed regretfully. The mood changed. Elfane's face was once more that of a young Druid Priestess.
«What is your business, Smith?» she asked coolly. «Are you a spy?»
«No, I'm not a spy.»
«Then why do you go to Ballenkarch? Only spies and agents go to Ballenkarch. Druids and Mangs or their hirelings.»
«It is business of a personal nature.» Looking at her he reflected that this vivid Priestess Elfane had gaily suggested killing him only yesterday.
She noticed his scrutiny, tilted her head in a whimsical harlequin grimace–the trick of a girl aware of her appeal, a flirtatious trick. Joe laughed–stopped, listened. There had been a scraping sound against the wall. Elfane followed his gaze.
«That's my cabin!» Joe rose to his feet, opened the door, bounded down the balcony, threw open the door to his cabin. Erru Ex Amma, the young Mang officer, stood facing him, a wide mirthless grin on his face, showing pointed yellow teeth. He held a gun which was directed at Joe's middle.
«Back up!» he ordered. « Back!»
Joe slowly retreated out on the balcony. He looked over into the saloon. The four Mangs were at their game. One of the civilians glanced up, muttered to the others and they all turned their heads, looked up. Joe caught the flash of four citron-yellow faces. Then they were back to their game.
«Into the she-Druid's cabin,» said Ex Amma. « Quick!» He moved his gun, still smiling the wide smile that was like a fox showing its fangs.